Teresa's wrinkled nose told him she didn't want any eel. He took one for himself, only because the Minister's nodding and grinning told him he should. After he did, the Minister leaned close and whispered, "Eel is good for the eel, if you follow my meaning."

Dalton simply smiled, feigning appreciation for the pointer. His mind was on his job and the task at hand, and besides, he wasn't preoccupied with concern about his "eel."

As Teresa sampled the gingered carp, Dalton idly tasted the baked herring with sugar as he watched the Haken squires, like an invading army, sweep down on the tables of guests. They brought platters of fried pike, bass, millet, and trout; baked lamprey herring, haddock, and hake; roast perch, salmon, seal, and sturgeon; crabs, shrimp, and whelk on beds of glazed roe, along with tureens of spiced scallop bisque and almond fish stew, in addition to colorful sauces of every kind. Other dishes were served in inventive presentations of sauces and florid concoctions of combined ingredients, from porpoise and peas in onion wine sauce, to sturgeon roe and gurnard flanks, to great plaice and codling pie in sauce vert.

The abundance of food presented in such elaborate profusion was intended not only to be political spectacle wherein the Minister of Culture manifested his power and wealth, but also to convey-to protect the Minister from accusations of ostentatious excess-a profound religious connotation. The plenty was ultimately an exhibition of the Creator's splendor and, despite the seeming opulence, but an infinitesimal sampling of His endless bounty.

The feast was not convened to oblige a gathering of people, but a gathering of people had been called to attend the feast-a subtle but significant difference. That the feast wasn't held for a social reason-say, a wedding, or to celebrate an anniversary of a military victory-underlined its religious substance. The Sovereign's attendance, his being the Creator's deputy in the world of life, only consecrated the sacred aspects of the feast.

If guests were impressed with the wealth, power, and nobility of the Minister and his wife, that was incidental and unavoidable. Dalton incidentally, noticed a great many people being unavoidably impressed.

The room droned with conversation sprinkled with the chime of laughter as the guests sipped wine, nibbled food of every sort, and sampled with different fingers the variety of sauces. The harpist had started in again to entertain the guests while they dined. The Minister ate eel as he spoke with his wife, Stein, and the two wealthy backers at the far end of the table.

Dalton wiped his lips, deciding to make use of the opening offered by the relaxed mood. He took a last sip of wine before leaning toward his wife. "Did you find out anything from your talk earlier?"

Teresa used her knife to part a piece of fried pike, then picked up her half with her fingers and dipped it in red sauce. She knew he meant Claudine. "Nothing specific. But I suspect the lamb is not locked in her pen."

Teresa didn't know what the whole matter was about, or that Dalton had enlisted the two Haken boys to deliver a warning to Claudine, but she knew enough to understand that Claudine was probably making trouble over her tryst with the Minister. While they never discussed specifics, Teresa knew she wasn't sitting at the head table simply because Dalton knew the law forward and backward.»

Teresa lowered her voice. "While I talked with her, she paid a lot of attention to Director Linscott-you know, watching him while trying to act as if she wasn't; watching, too, to see if anyone saw her looking."

Her word was always trustworthy, never embellished with supposition without being tagged as such.

"Why do you think she was so brazen before about telling the other women that the Minister forced himself on her?"

"I think she told others about the Minister as protection. I believe she reasoned that if people already knew about it, then she was safe from being silenced before anyone could find out.

"For some reason, though, she has suddenly become closemouthed. But, like I said, she was watching the Director a lot and pretending as if she wasn't."

Teresa left it to him to draw his own conclusions. Dalton leaned toward her as he rose. "Thank you, darling. If you will excuse me briefly, I must see to some business."

She caught his hand. "Don't forget you promised to introduce me to the Sovereign."

Dalton lightly kissed her cheek before meeting the Minister's eye. What Teresa had said only confirmed his belief in the prudence of his plan. Much was at stake. Director Linscott could be inquisitorial. Dalton was reasonably sure the message delivered by the two boys had silenced Claudine, but if it didn't, this would end her ability to sow her seeds. He gave Bertrand a slight nod.

As he moved around the room, Dalton stopped at a number of tables, leaning over, greeting people he knew, hearing a joke here, a rumor there, a proposal or two, and promised to get together with some. Everyone thought him a representative of the Minister, come from the head table to make the rounds of the tables, seeing to everyone's pleasure.

Arriving at last at his true destination, Dalton presented a warm smile. "Claudine, I pray you are feeling better. Teresa suggested I inquire-see if you need anything-seeing as how Edwin is not able to be here."

She flashed him a reasonably good imitation of a sincere smile. "Your wife is a dear, Master Campbell. I'm fine, thank you. The food and company has put me right. Please tell her I'm feeling much better."

"I am glad to hear it." Dalton leaned close to her ear. "I was going to relay an offer for Edwin-and you-but I'm reluctant to ask this of you not only with Edwin out of the city, but with your unfortunate tumble. I don't wish to force work on you when you aren't up to it, so please come to see me when you are fit."

She turned to frown at him. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. If you have business that involves Edwin, he wishes me to hear it. We work closely and have no secrets where business is concerned. You know that, Master Campbell."

Dalton not only knew it, but was counting on it. He squatted down on the balls of his feet as she scooted her chair back to be out of the table's circle of conversation.

"Please forgive my presumption? Well, you see," he began, "the Minister feels profound sympathy for men unable to feed their families any other way but to beg food. Even if they can beg food, their families still go for want of clothes, proper shelter, and other necessities. Despite the charity of good Anderith people, many children go to bed with the ache of hunger in their bellies. Hakens as well as Anders suffer this fate, and the Minister feels compassion for both, for they are all his responsibility.

"The Minister has labored feverishly, and has at last worked out the final details of a new law to at last put a number of people to work who otherwise would have no hope."

"That's, that's very good of him," she stammered. "Bertrand Chanboor is a good man. We are lucky to have him as our Minister of Culture."

Dalton wiped a hand across his mouth as she looked away from his eyes. "Well, the thing of it is, the Minister often mentions his respect for Edwin-for all the unsung work Edwin has done-so I suggested to the Minister that it would be appropriate to somehow show our respect for Edwin's hard work and dedication.

"The Minister fervently agreed and instantly sprang to the idea of having the new law headed as proposed and sponsored by Burgess Edwin Winthrop. The Minister even wishes it to be called the Winthrop Fair Employment Law in honor of your husband-and you, too, of course, for all your work. Everyone knows the input you have in the laws Edwin drafts."

Claudine's gaze had already returned to meet his. She put a hand to her breast.